


A Leper's Account

by MechanicalJack



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Canon-Typical Violence, Demons, Diseases, Eventual Romance, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Going to Hell, I'm Not Ashamed, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period-Typical Homophobia, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, This is literally a crusader and Satan falling in love, Violence, Weird Plot Shit, like magical leprosy, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 11:45:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19723003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MechanicalJack/pseuds/MechanicalJack
Summary: Godrend is a man deserted by the gods and defiled by fate. When he yields to the cold earth one deep twilight, the devil decides he has yet to pay- and be paid- his dues.Resurrected with a taste for godly blood, Godrend and his wretched company are bound soul and blood to wherever their tale will take them. A story of two creatures abandoned by their makers.Romance and war are the things of novels, but so is passion to hatred and desire in a tangled merging of intent. All must pay due to their master, and for the haplessly fallen crusader, he is the dark king's pawn and his alone.





	A Leper's Account

**Author's Note:**

> My first story here, so ah, I suppose it is quite a special occasion! This is going to be a bit of a long con, and I hope you enjoy it. Updates will be and have been slow since life likes to boot me in the butt sometimes, but alas! We will have our chapters, no?

Godrend’s horse paced beside him, one laboring breath after another as they strayed the warrens and bluffs of the decrepit city. The walk was long and unforgiving, taking pause when the air grew too stuffy to bear or Merd picked up a stone into her worn hooves. He snarled under his helmet, his only sanctuary from the sun, in due wrath that consumed his every half-brained plan. 

The world wasn’t a kind mistress, his feet bleed wet paths of crimson and the hope they would ever escape was dimming. Still, on and over the dunes they went. The moments between their panting was disrupted only by curses and coughs, lungs hoarse and stinging with desert dust. Godrend hadn’t prepared for this out of all manners of folly he’d experienced. 

This was what fools got when they believed one lie too many. This, he knew, was what he deserved. A wretched fool and his miserable steed, alone together and forgotten in the searing spans of a city who’s title had been lost to neglect. The sand was unforgiving and uncaring for his repentance, the cliffs unfaltering and hindering in their considerable might. 

That damned woman and her tall tales, of course, he should have known it was all part of the show. His naivety caught the better of him now, it wasn’t a matter of importance back then to consider it all for naught. He was no stranger to disappointment, and its distant figure took little heed to his anger. 

Merd was the first to go. He recognized the signs, first with the foaming and the stomping of her feet. It didn’t lessen the blow when her staggering knees finally fell out from under her, and onto the golden dust she collapsed, gulping for breath and throwing her head about in wild desperation. 

Despite his selfishness, he sat alongside her form, remaining for what seemed like hours for her thrashing to end so he could gently take her head into his arms. Her eyes were full, the pitter-patter of her heart knocking a rhythm into his hands, a fading beat they clung to under a sinking sun. 

He stroked down her chest and over her sides, quaking with anger and fear alike. Two beasts of the same ilk fastened onto him without needing claws. He had to be strong for this artless creature, he justified. In reparation for all the times she’d carried him, tired and careworn from a day’s work. 

Though without complexity, she was a beauty of nature, and one he had come to treasure in a sense. This day was long coming, he knew. and surely, through all those pitiful looks and great travels, he was certain that she knew as well. Something without a definite name or form, but a knowledge they for once could share. 

It was over quickly once the moon cooled the rocks. Her final breath was a deep clear one, and she was gone. Quiet and alone with his thoughts, he rose from his vigil, a profound sadness mounting in his chest. Merd’s coat reflected well in the light, a sheet of liquid midnight pooling over her relaxed muscles and down her muzzle. 

Godrend left her as she was behind him, satchel buried in the sand with her saddle. It didn’t matter to him presently. He wasn’t sure some spare paper had any use for him, save for scribbling down words he’d never learned to write. 

He pondered if a god somewhere was taking care of her, his faithful companion, somewhere bright and grassy where she would delight in being. Despite himself, he could still remember her youthful years, headstrong and stubborn against all but herself with the temper of a bull. 

Wherever that was, he could never be. That was just the way his fate would turn. 

Godrend wandered now, down the broken steps of a temple littered with symbols of stars and horned things he’d never be able to imagine in his nightmares. It drew his attention, this place with its dark aura and strange allure, something deep in him called for him to explore it. The former knight wasn’t one to resist a gut feeling. 

Even when it could bring ruin he couldn’t stay away. 

His muscles grew limp under his armor with each step into the darkness, and through his pain, these days of struggling had wrought, he was just able to make out an altar. On its crown sat a bleached skull, cracked and worn upon the dark stone. So this was what it served use for, sacrifice. 

Who was he to refuse such an honest temptation?

He struggled to the altarpiece, about half his height, and leaned against it without balance. This rock was far more welcoming than the ones outside. 

Godrend sighed, closing his eyes to welcome the cold air before he continued on. This hadn’t been the life he had wanted to live. He’d wanted kinship with someone more than his horse gone now, and to be able to walk the streets without the stares of the curious and disgusted. He, for lack of a term better to describe it, wanted normalcy. 

He wanted to have been able to stay in his hometown, doing busywork for near to nothing and coming home to a family who might have even loved him. Godrend desired that life, instead of that of the nomad he had taken on. Deserters were looked down upon, unholy and unrighteous no matter how much blood you drew in the Lord's name. 

He could agree on that. He was no holy man, but still, he wanted. That was one of man’s curses; greed was a foul plague. 

A numb feeling crept up his arm as he sat within his thoughts, crawling over and under his skin without his notice. Perhaps he didn’t care, or maybe he wanted this. It was only when it met his neck that he startled. 

“What matter of devilry-” 

He gasped in pain when the deadness seized his chest, his heartbeat wracking through his body a hundred paces quicker than he’d ever realized. He tried to clutch at it, to stop this horrid feeling, but his left hand only scraped against metal, leaving a dreadful scraping sound ringing through his head.

It was when his heart fell to the unknown that his vision began to dim, and he slumped slowly down, every inch a downhill battle. He wanted to jump up and leave this place with the haste of the wind, he needed to get out of here. It was a fight he was losing and losing quickly. 

The irony wasn’t lost on him, a once godly man dying in such a place like this. Someone might find his corpse and have a good chuckle before picking the armor off his bones. They’d seen their fair share of bandits up here, no doubt scavenging the dimwitted merchants who decided to make this pass their route. 

He didn’t have any grand revelations when the darkness took him. He didn’t realize the meaning of his life or why he’d been fighting in the first place. He didn’t much care to. The only thought he had on him when he, at last, gave up the ghost, was that this death seemed a much better master than any he’d had before.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters will generally tend to be longer, this one was shorter due to a lack of time.


End file.
